Page 63 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
Composing herself, Emma peered anxiously at the door. For a moment, she said nothing at all, her cheeks burning hot. And then, after a long moment, she said, “That was indeed a very nice story, Your Grace.”
“Lucien.”
Her lips curved softly. “Lucien.”
He smiled as she said his name. “It’s a true Christmas story,” he insisted.
“Yes, I see…” And she peered up at the kissing ball hanging above her head. “Every Christmas?” she asked, just to be certain.
“Every Christmas,” he said, and offered his arm.
But the kiss was only proof her heart belonged to him still… tonight he intended to bind her to him forever.
CHAPTER9
At the stroke of midnight, Lucien slipped out of his room and made his way toward Emma’s room.
All the lights had been extinguished for the night, but the house was aglow with something far more brilliant—the light of love. It shone here in this home, where the folks were far less sober than those he had encountered throughout his life. Whatever he had set out to accomplish when he’d set out from London, it wasn’t this, he realized, but as certain as that freshly fallen snow he had traipsed through this afternoon, and the laughter they’d shared over dinner, he knew that Emma was the woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.
He couldn’t imagine another in his bed.
Halfway down the hall he froze as a door opened and closed at the end of the corridor.
Holding a candle before him, Andrew Peters, dressed all in red with a matching nightcap, froze before his bedroom door when he spotted Lucien.
He straightened, and after a moment, came walking toward him, though he spoke not a word until he stood before Lucien. And then, laying his finger aside his nose, he considered Lucien a long moment.
It was only in this light, without the trappings of his formal attire, that Lucien could see how truly youthful Peters appeared. He could be no more than five years Emma’s senior. He squared his shoulders and met Lucien’s gaze and for the longest time, the two men simply stared at one another. After a long moment Andrew set his shoulders straighter and asked, “Will pistols be necessary at dawn?”
“Only if you intend to keep me from the altar.”
Each man assessed the other.
Peters seemed to think about his response a moment, and apparently, satisfied, gave him a nod. “Carry on, then,” he said, and walked on by, cradling his candle before him, explaining, “I have cookies to eat.” His buttery light moved on down the hall, casting dancing shadows wherever it passed. Still Lucien waited, half expecting him to turn about and shout at him like a mad man, but he didn’t.
As awkward as the encounter had been, he reasoned, it must be a far different matter for a brother than for a father. Besides they were already engaged, he argued with himself, and grinned, feeling suddenly like the luckiest man on earth.
When he was certain Andrew Peters wouldn’t murder him where he stood, he started again toward Emma’s room, thinking that he might revise his plan a bit and simply have a chat with her. The need to see her tonight was inexorable. Dinner with her and her precious family had left him yearning for her eternal presence.
She made him smile, and her youthful exuberance no longer dismayed him. In fact, he found it quite infectious, and for the first time in so long, he felt full of anticipation and passion.
Slipping into her room, he went to her bedside and knelt beside her bed, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle her inevitable cry of surprise.
“Emma,” he whispered excitedly.
Her eyes flew wide. “Lucien?”
“It’s Christmas morning!” he said.
The sound of joy in Lucien’s voice brought an instant smile to Emma’s lips.
She blinked, peering at her window. Frosted though it might be, she could still see the moon riding high in the sky. Silvery light spilled into the bedroom, illuminating Lucien’s handsome face and his clear blue eyes. “But it’s night,” she argued.
“After midnight, and thus morning,” he persisted with a smile. “At any rate, I couldn’t wait to give you my gift!”
The evening had been truly lovely, with great promise, but Emma had hardly expected a gift from Lucien. Surprised by the prospect, she sat up, pulling the covers to her breast. “A gift? Oh, no! But I have nothing to give you, Lucien!”
“You have already given me my gift,” he told her, and smiling still, he withdrew a small box from his pocket, handing it to her.
